#the actual worst logic ever seen

[punsmaster69]

9/JAN/20XX

been a minute since i stayed in my room all day by myself.

once upon a time, that was a pretty common occurrence.

and maybe i still won't, but it's how i've spent today so far.

feels a bit different now that i'm actually lifted off the ground.

while stretching out as much as i could, i accidentally knocked something off the bed with my foot. lazily rolling over to see what it was, there was no real intention in me to get up and grab it.

a stuffed plush of a bear laid pathetically on its face.

i glanced back at the other stuffed animals on the end of my bed.

"...but these ones feel special for some reason."

"must be the fabric quality."

..that's what i'd thought the day she won them for me, right?

they're not particularly notable in quality, in honesty.

still, they do feel special.

sliding off the bed and landing on my feet next to the bear, i lifted it to meet my face.

the stuffed animal's beady eyes, obscured partially by fur, returned my stare.

"you're only special because of her, huh?"

i can tell myself i'm not a stuffed animal person.

i'm not the type.

i'm not a sentimental guy.

and it'd probably be true,

if it weren't for her.

the other plush creatures had been arranged by size at the foot of my bed, resting against the baseboard.

the doing of a neater skeleton than i.

and, the un-doing of a messier skeleton than he.

sitting myself in front of the wrecked arrangement, i tried to recreate how they had been previously.

two equally exaggeratedly fat animals start the line off at the largest size - differently colored chickens.

floor bear is the dead-center of the grouping. it's got longer brown fur and a small gold ribbon tied into bow around its neck. the bow and the animal's eyes are somewhat obscured by the fur length.

then, a creature i can't quite determine between raccoon and squirrel which it might be.

either or, whatever that one is has a little fall cardigan on.

smallest, final of the line, is a something that is decidedly not an animal.

stuffed shape is more fitting, it being a heart; that kind of semi-shiny, soft material.

"I never want to be ap-heart!"

reads the front.

the embroidered font is fancy and silvery.

texturally, the words are rough.

really, they're the exact quality one expects from festival booth prizes.

so to be displayed on the end of my bed like this...

it's more a sentiment to the memory surrounding them.

another day like that would be nice. can admit to myself now that i really would enjoy it.

friends can s

the festival setting in particular isn't quite the part i'm thinking about.

where around here could we

....

properly seated, the stuffies feel like an audience in a way i hadn't noticed before.

on the other hand, putting them anywhere but on my bed feels like disrespect.

for now, i'll turn them the other way.

——

turning them away feels wrong in a way i'm not sure i could specify if i tried, so i rotated the bear back to me.

it's a show of innocence.

of normal-ness.

friendshipness.

(the friendship-adjectives are getting out of hand.)

i held my hands up to further prove to the inanimate object that innocence.

i put them back down because hands don't have anything to do with this.

"you're a gift from a friend. no other way to see it."

not entirely sure at this point whether it was really the bear i was convincing - or entirely sure why i was bothering doing this to begin with - i moved on.

...

i already noted the amount of "friendship" adjectives i've been coming up with over time to excuse things.

𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

sure.

unspecific enough.

"friendship" is a nice label you can put over things that you don't wanna give any 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 labels to.

labels feel like making a choice.

labels feel concrete.

labels feel like 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.

and, uh.

you know something?

never have been the kind of guy to act first.

another thing calling it "friendship" is good for is...

can't call it "cowardice" when i won't vocalize (or similar) what's occupying my mind

if it's still called "friendship."

maybe the fact that i'm trying to justify it at all should bring light to somethin'...

but that kind of self awareness is reserved for therapy calls.

and i'm hanging up the phone for now.

[daisywords]

nothing like getting very minorly told off at work to make me feel physically ill for the rest of the day

[red-dyed-sarumane]

whats an activity void likes to do that most wouldn’t expect of them?

beyond photo editing void is not an artistic type they cant draw they dont write they cant play any instruments nor do they have any real interest in it BUT when they feel like treating themself they attempt latte art although more often than not its hot cocoa art than coffee art & also they arent particularly good at it & it doesnt often look like anything but its a little task that gets their mind off things for a moment & they like doing.

[strinak]

mxtx I'm sorry, your themes are too deep, it's scaring the hoes

[youraveragemushroom]

♡

[lavenderhorns]

Every now and then I remember that Malbolge exists and I get to spend the better part of an hour cry-laughing at the world’s worst programming language

already starting off strong, but it gets worse

Wow! Sounds easy and intuitive to use! What’s the “crazy operation” you ask? We’ll get to that later. For now let’s see what a program in this language looks like :)

Thanks! I hate it!

it’s so difficult to work with that the first program was written by another brute force search program

mmmmm delicious base-3 arithmetic, what could go wrong? (For reference, that means this program forgoes the usual “0/1″ values of binary code in favor of a much more fun “0/1/2″ set of values)

ah.

Here’s how the language actually figures out what to do. It’s got 8 “simple” commands that can be executed easily by *checks notes* running the code itself through the modulo operation and taking the result.

As a bonus, on top of all that every single character in your code will now alter what every single other character does. So I hope you’re alright with cracking a cipher every time you add a new letter to your program!

oh god oh fuck.

behold, Malbolge’s primary arithmetic operation and what you’ll be using for most of your math while programming with it :)

This looks specifically designed to be the least logical math operation you could make, and knowing what the rest of Malbolge is I’d wager that’s precisely what happened. I never want to ever use this and it’s my favorite thing I’ve ever seen.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Malbolge

Anyways here’s the wiki page if you wanna read through it more deeply, I’m gonna sit here holding in my laughter staring at the hello world program again.

[taeyongdoyoung]

teddy bear

summary: you discover your best friend's dirty little secret but after the initial anger passes, you are excited... pairing: haechan x reader genre: smut, best friends to lovers warnings: non-consensual filming/hidden camera, perv!haechan (wbk), but ALSO perv!reader, allusions to masturbation, lowkey dubcon but not rlly, face-sitting, eating out, blowjob, unprotected piv sex, boob touching, switch!haechan, inexperienced!reader, pet names, oh yeah and kissing (ew) author's note: idk what this is but 🎵 i've been a nasty guuuurl, nasty, is somebody gonna match my 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴 🎵 word count: 2k

If there is one person in this universe you’d trust with your life, that person would be Haechan. He’s always been there for you, through the highs and lows of your life. So, when you discover how he’d betrayed you, you feel like your world comes crashing down on you with all of its weight and injustice.

You accidentally find something you’d never expected would happen to you. A hidden camera in the teddy bear Haechan had gifted you a year ago. You can’t believe it. You don’t perceive yourself as a particularly interesting person. You don’t do much in your room. Except…

The idea that Haechan had seen you in your most private, vulnerable moments sends chills down your spine. You feel mortified, embarrassed but most of all, angry. How could he do this to you? How could he film you in secret without your permission? How could he betray your trust like that? And worst of all, how could a part of you get excited about that?

You invite your best friend Haechan over on a whim. With the initial plan to confront him, maybe threaten him with this newfound knowledge a little, things take an unexpected turn.

“Hey, darling, how have you been?” Haechan asks as he enters your apartment.

“Oh, don’t you ‘darling’ me, you creep!” you immediately accuse him.

“What did I do?” he tries to play it dumb but you can see it in his eyes that he knows exactly what crime he’s guilty of.

“I found the camera…inside the teddy bear,” you get straight to the point, dragging him by the hand to your room and showing him the evidence.

Maybe this is unwise. Maybe a sane person would go to the police rightaway. Maybe you should file a restraining order. But the thought of living without Haechan feels more painful than the thought he’d done something so sick. Maybe you’re just as sick in the head.

“So, you found it,” he states the obvious.

“Aren’t you gonna say anything to defend yourself? Like, maybe it came like that and you didn’t know it had a camera,” you attempt to find a logical explanation.

“Oh, I knew, alright,” Haechan confesses.

You punch his arm lightly, not meaning to actually hurt him, but he’s taken aback nonetheless.

“How could you do this to me? I trusted you with my life,” you cry out, your eyes welling up with tears.

“I promise no one else has seen the footage. I would never show it to anyone.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” you sniffle. “You saw me…naked. No, scratch that, you saw me touching myself, saw me crying all alone, saw me at my most pathetic.”

“There was never anything pathetic about you, precious. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen and I’m so sorry I made. I just…admire you so much that I did something wrong. I know it’s unhealthy that I want to look at you all the time but I couldn’t help it. I’d do anything to make you forgive me,” Haechan promises.

“Anything?” you ask, your eyebrow raising in interest, a sinful idea already forming in your head.

“You name it. If you wanna report me to the police, go for it, as long as you forgive me one day.”

“I’m not gonna report you,” you say calmly. “But I do want a favour.”

“Whatever you wish, sweetheart,” Haechan blinks at you with so much affection and dedication you know you’re making the right choice.

“You’ve probably seen me…well, struggling to reach an orgasm,” you murmur shyly. “When I feel it coming, my fingers get so tired and I just…stop in the middle of nowhere. I was wondering if you can help me with that?”

You phrase it as a question but it’s actually a demand. If Haechan wants your forgiveness so badly, he’s gonna have to earn it.

“Sit on my face,” he offers.

“Huh?”

“Go on, then. I’ll help you out, just relax and let me take care of you.”

Fuck, his words have such an immediate effect on you that you rush to take off your shorts and comfortable panties you wear at home and you don’t have the time to feel self-conscious.

Haechan seems more eager than you and pulls you closer than ever. As you make yourself comfortable on top of him, he quickly dives in, licking your pussy with so much enthusiasm that you already know he’s gonna make you feel so good. You grab his hair a bit harshly and he moans against your folds, the sound sending vibrations to your core. Arching your back, you search the long-awaited release as Haechan digs his nails into your thighs, holding onto you for support. His tongue fucks into you from below in ways you didn’t think possible. You cry out his name unabashedly as you come all over his too pretty for this world face.

You collapse backwards, head falling near his legs. As the haze of your orgasm begins to wear off, you notice Haechan’s hard cock straining against the confines of his jeans. Another idea has already been planted in your brain.

“Am I forgiven yet?” Haechan wonders with an adorable pout. You want to kiss him stupid but decide to torture him a little longer.

“Not yet,” you chuckle. “But it’s a good start. Now, I want you to teach me how to suck a cock.”

His pained expression tells you volumes.

“W-why?” he stutters.

“Oh, I don’t know. I’m not very experienced and I wouldn’t want to embarrass myself in front of guys. So, show me the right way.”

Haechan gulps anxiously. Is he jealous of these hypothetical future guys. You don’t tell him that he is the only guy you want to touch, that would give his ego an unnecessary boost. And you don’t want that. You want him to think that him being forgiven is dependent on whether he does as you wish.

“Okay. Well, to be honest, most guys just prefer fucking a girl’s mouth, or so I’ve heard. So, you wouldn’t have to do much. But I can still show you the basics.”

You nod eagerly and unbutton his jeans. Haechan gently guides you to his cock.

“Lick the tip. You don’t have to fit it all in your mouth.”

You follow his instructions excitedly and envelop your lips around his length. It’s not super long but its thickness poses a delicious challenge. Your mouth can’t possibly widen any further so you also start touching him with your small hands.

“That’s good, you’re doing so well for me,” Haechan praises you and his words make you even more enthusiastic. Your eyes teary and your throat hurting but he strokes your hair so sweetly and you must be fucked up because you don’t want this to end.

Licking and groping to the best of your abilities, his release comes sooner than expected. Are you really that good or is he just whipped for you? You try to swallow his cum but there is so much of it that as soon as your lips leave his cock so you can breathe properly, his cum comes spilling down your chest.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” Haechan apologizes for making a mess.

You shake your head and can’t resist the temptation any longer so you crash your mouth against his in a sick, feverish kiss. He appears taken aback but kisses you back with just as much passion, if not more. He buries his hand in your hair, tilting your head back, practically fucking your face with his own. He bites your lips and touches your cheek with his other hand, as you completely melt for him.

“You like this?” Haechan chuckles in disbelief once he breaks the kiss. “You like being kissed by your best friend who’s been getting off on footage of you in secret?”

“Does that make me a weirdo?” you grin wickedly.

“Oh, definitely. But I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Haechan says.

“I want you to fuck me,” you blurt out suddenly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Are you sure?” his eyes widen in shock.

“Please?”

“Your wish is my command, princess,” Haechan responds. “Do you want to be on top?”

“I don’t know, whatever works best for you,” you really don’t care about the positions, you just need this freak inside of you. Okay, you realize you’re just as freaky but oh well.

“Wanna try riding me and if you get tired, I’ll take over?” Haechan suggests softly.

“Alright, let’s try that,” you agree quickly and take your top off.

“Oh,” Haechan licks his dry lips in surprise.

“What?”

“You’re not wearing a bra,” he states the obvious.

“So? I’m at my own home, it feels more comfortable that way.”

“I know but…you asked me over knowing that I’ve put a camera in that bear and you’re not wearing-”

“Haechan, do me another favour and stop overthinking, okay?”

He nods again, still staring at your boobs.

“Do you want to touch them?” you laugh because his face looks priceless.

“May I?” Haechan asks politely. God, he’s so cute you want to eat him up. He’s also the most perverted guy you’ve ever met. So basically perfect for you.

“Yes, do whatever you want, I trust you,” you admit even though it is probably foolish. But it is true.

Haechan envelops his hands around your tits as you climb on top of him, letting his cock slide in. You’re so wet for him it happens so smoothly, as if you were meant to fit in together. He plays with your nipples gently and you ride him, moving your hips up and down.

“You can be more rough, I’m not gonna break,” you tell him honestly.

Haechan isn’t sure exactly what you mean by that but tries his best to not disappoint you. He pinches your nipples, squeezing your boobs a little more harshly and eliciting sweet moans out of you. Then, he bucks his hips upwards to meet your wetness, fucking into you from below with impressive speed and eagerness. You are beginning to grow tired, chasing an orgasm that feels so close, yet out of reach.

“Please, take over, I don’t think I can do this,” you pout pitifully.

“Sure, angel,” Haechan flips you over so that you are now lying on your back and fucks you hard and sweet.

“Make me come, Haechan, please, please, please,” you beg him desperately.

“Let go for me, baby, that’s it,” he encourages you and who are you to argue with him?

Your orgasm hits you so suddenly and you feel yourself babbling nonsense. Soon after, he releases his seed inside or you, making you lose your mind even further. You feel so deliciously full you wish you could stay trapped in this moment forever.

Haechan slides out of you and brings you a bottle of water. You greedily accept it and after your thirst is satiated, give the rest to him. He drinks a bit and then leaves it on the bed. You look at him without saying anything and he does the same for a while. Haechan strokes your hair and you lean into his comforting touch. The silence is in no way uncomfortable but you are still plagued by thoughts. What’s next? Pure friendship is out of the question. You like him too much to entertain the thought of him with someone else. But does he feel the same?

“I don’t want to suck other guys’ cocks. In case it wasn’t obvious,” you admit without thinking of the consequences. “Do you…want to sleep with other people?”

Haechan shakes his head.

“Your ten personalities provide plenty of entertainment for me,” he jokes.

You shove him lightly, unable to contain your giggles. He grabs your wrists and kisses them fondly.

“You’re such a brat,” you say but it’s a compliment.

“Alexa play Charli XCX’s new album” Haechan shrugs.

“I sometimes wish I could be a brat, too,” you sigh wistfully.

“You? No way, you’re my good girl,” he squeezes your cheeks dotingly.

“Challenge accepted,” you give him a wink.

“Fine, fine, I’ll try my best to teach you my brattish ways,” he vows generously.

“It’s a date,” you clap your hands with unrestrained excitement.

“So…am I forgiven?” Haechan asks one last time.

You laugh and wrap your arms around him in a hug.

“On one condition,” you whisper in his ear with a smirk. “You take the teddy bear to your place. It’s my turn to look at you whenever I like.”

The End

[free-therapy-for-me]

Sent an assignment one minute late and now I want to die

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

You seem like an incredibly well read person, plus someone with a lot of insight into intimacy because of your work. So, in light of your romance book reviews, which are an absolute highlight on your patreon, do you have any insight into what is needed/suggested for a good romance novel?

g o d this is so fucking hard and also really fun to chew on. I want to preface this by saying this is ENTIRELY subjective and based completely on what I *PERSONALLY* find that I enjoy in a romance. this isn't, like, an objective guide on how to write a romance that doesn't suck. that doesn't exist because people like different things, and I'm speaking from one perspective.

also I should say that my preferred flavor of romance novel is solidly contemporary. I haven't read many historicals, certainly not enough to opine well on them, I don't do those mafia dark romances or whatever the fuck, and I've barely dabbled at all in any kind of fantasy romance, whether they're full high fantasy or witchy urban fantasy stories. (although I'm about to do one of the latter next month, you can vote for a book on my patreon rn!)

having gotten all of those caveats out of the way, here's some shit I like and dislike:

there are exceptions to this but broadly, I prefer a POV for everyone involved in the relationship. to me a romance where we're only seeing events from the POV of one member of the relationship automatically makes it seem like one person matters more in a dynamic where everyone should be of equal importance. also, god, if the plot's really going to hinge on not knowing what's going on in one partner's head suggests that miscommunication is going to be a pretty critical part of the plot, and I hate that shit. TALK TO EACH OTHER. I'LL KILL YOU.

on that note, there needs to be an actual compelling reason why the characters can't be together, okay? the #1 driving tension of every romance is "why the fuck can't they be together yet" and you BETTER have a good answer. whether it's interpersonal or external forces, if there's a very easy solution to what's keeping them apart then your characters look dumb and I'm bored. one of the most frustrating romances I've ever read involved two characters who were mutually attracted to each from the JUMP, who refused to act on it because they were coworkers (neither of them in any position of authority of the other, nothing unprofessional or inappropriate about it) and they were "only" living in the same state for A YEAR. A FULL YEAR !!! shut up. get a grip and kiss each other.

now, having said that: whatever your bullshit reason is for these two characters to be interacting with each other, you need to COMMIT to that shit so hard that I, the reader, will feel silly for even questioning the logic. the worst offender I've ever seen on this front is D'Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding, which pulls its protagonists together via a reality TV competition and then just... promptly loses any interest in really dealing with the actual realities of being filmed 24/7? it's insanely distracting how little the book engages with its central hook, and was a huge point deduction for me. whereas you have, like, The Bride Test, a book with a premise that skirts dangerously close to a little bit of human trafficking but embraces the whole premise so wholeheartedly that you completely forget about the potentially horrific elements in there. who cares that Esme was bribed here with the promise of a green card if she seduces a man she's never met? there's whimsy happening! we've moved on! it's literally fine and she's in no danger except the danger of a BROKEN HEART.

this one is going to seem SO obvious but like. I need them to be actually like each other. I'm not saying they can't be mutually bitchy while they grow to like each other or anything, they don't have to always be NICE to each other, but there are so many M/F romances where the dude is just flat out fucking MEAN and condescending to the girl until he decides he wants to fuck her. and sometimes even after that! stop it! after a certain point I don't want her to fuck him I want her to run him over a car!!!! there's suuuuch a line between "guy I butt heads and exchange banter with but could fuck if we just got to know each other" and "man who hates me and is for real fucking bullying me."

"kisses only," "doors closed," whatever term they use for a romance novel without any sex scenes on page, I don't like it. listen: I know that they're not everybody's cup of tea, and I FULLY recognize that a lot of romance novel sex scenes are unfathomably cringe. and yet, I need them. partly because they're funny, but also because if this book wants me to be invested in the developing relationship between two adults who are supposed to be WILDLY sexually attracted to each other, then I want to see the damn sex. no matter how many bad similes or unfortunate adjectives it entails. and if you're not going to show me the sex, don't you dare have the characters gushing about how great it is. I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. (I'm looking at you, Sorry, Bro.)

related: there's this thing that I call "Horny Wolf Syndrome," which is derived from this tweet:

initially I used it to refer to when previously sweet-tempered male romance protags inexplicably started talking like horny wovles during sex scenes - "LET ME SEE YOUR PRETTY CUNT ON MY COCK" and the like - but now I more generally use it to refer to scenarios in which characters of any gender completely dispense with their established personality while they fuck in order to fulfill a more broadly appealing, one-size-fits-all sexual fantasy. I hate that shit; if your characters act like completely unrecognizable people during sex, you didn't write very strong characters. one of my favorite things about writing sex scenes is that it's so SO interesting to see how their the characters' personal quirks translate into a setting that's very different from most other contexts, and it's deeply disappointing when authors take the easy route in favor of some pornhub dialogue.

one of the things that actually won my most recent read, Raiders of the Lost Heart, a HUGE amount of points with me was how frank the female lead was about initiating sex for the first time. it was completely in character for her and felt really different than any other book I've read, and honestly? it was a breath of fresh air.

[detectivebambam]

inspired by a recent post i saw about Kevin Day holding a baby, here's Bam Bam's professional ranking of Foxes and Co. by best to worst at dealing with children:

Andrew and I am always going to stand by this. He grew up in foster care so it's entirely possible he's raised a bunch of babies in his lifetime, but I think he'd by driven by breaking the abuse cycle. if he can keep a kid safe, even if it's only one, he's going to. Andrew social worker au when? anyway. Designated Babysitter.

Laila. No clue why tbh she kinda just gives those vibes

Katelyn because she's a sweetheart. whether they're her kids or someone else's, i just feel that she's really great with them

Seth was very good with kids. babysat his younger siblings a lot, didn't really want kids, but if you gave him a baby he might not give it back

Wymack is scared of babies. The younger a child is, the more fear he has. The first time he held a baby he was like... 50-60. (bonus points if it's Kevin's kid). but he's very good with them. very gentle and sweet

Matt. golden retriever yk. idk what else to say. he's also Big and babies tend to like that. lots of sleeping room

Aaron. he thinks he'd be terrible so he stays away from them. when he and Kate start talking about having kids, his biggest fear is turning out like his mother. they do end up having kids and he is the Best Dad to ever dad

Abby is really good with kids in that she knows what to do with them in the most basic sense. when they need to be fed, how to get them to stop crying, etc, but other than that she's pretty indifferent to them

Jeremy. he's kinda lost when it comes to kids. he'll hold them for a little bit but unless they're older than six he gets bored so easily

Bee. she'll hold a baby cuz they're cute, but toddlers exhaust her. she'd rather spend her time with older kids and young adults

Renee thinks kids are cute, but doesn't really want anything to do with them. if someone asked if she wanted to hold the baby, she'd politely decline. very funny for the Foxes watching her try to interact with a child and realize that Andrew is actually better than her at something

Dan. not great with kids because she gets very impatient and doesn't want any due to some lurking childhood trauma (sometimes i give Matt and Dan kids for funsies, but realistically i don't think they'd have any)

Kevin. 😐 he's. not great. he kinda shakes a lil when he holds them, and holds them so gently that you'd think they were made of glass. he will only hold a baby if he's sitting down. with older kids, he tries to hard to be logical with them which ends up not working. to be fair, he's probably never seen a baby face to face before.

Cat. life or death situation, she could take care of a child. does she want to? no. and unfortunately i think she's one of those "kids are gross and annoying" people 😔

Nicky loves kids! he's just Very Bad with babies. if a baby even senses that Nicky is near, it starts crying. heartbreaking. this gives him the opportunity to adopt an older kid, though.

Alison doesn't care until the kid is old enough to go shopping with her. and if they start crying she's taking them home.

Neil. with Andrew's help, he does okay, but when left to his own devices he bluescreens. no, Neil, a 2 year old can not sit on the table while you do dishes.

Jean would be fantastic with kids, but they all remind him of Elodie, so it's more of a mental struggle than an actual inability to care for a child. if Andreil ever adopt, he likes to babysit

[morganwrites12672]

Abandon

Sam Winchester x Reader

Summary: After the worst fight he's ever had with his father, Sam goes to the only person he can for comfort.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: ANGST. John is a piece of shit. Arguing. Crying. Daddy issues.

A/N: Have fun crying!

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Whenever Sam had finally gotten back from visiting her, he hadn't expected Dean and John to be waiting up for him in the small living room of the motel. He awkwardly shrugged off his jacket before tossing it over the back of the couch.

He could feel his father's eyes burning into his skin. John must be pissed off about something. It seemed like Sam couldn't do anything without upsetting the older man. His good mood vanished.

"You have something you want to tell me?" John asked, and Sam just knew. He knew exactly what John meant. There was nothing else that would have his father looking this pissed.

Sam swallowed thickly, he shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. He looked between Dean and John. John looked pissed, his fists clenched, his jaw tight. Dean looked different. He looked almost happy, he looked satisfied. A smug smirk tugged at Dean's lips.

Dean was convinced that John was going to fix everything. He thought that his father would be able to fix this. Once all of this was over, Sam would stay. Everything would work out. If only Dean didn't put so much blind trust into his father. Maybe then he would have realized what would actually happen.

"No sir."

Sam knew that his father wouldn't be satisfied with this response. No, the older man would be pissed off. Nothing Sam said would make it right. No matter what he did his father would still probably lose his shit. This was going to be an argument from Hell.

"Don't you fucking lie to me!" John growled. He pulled something out of his pocket, a letter. Not just any letter though. The letter. Sam's acceptance letter for Stanford.

"How-" Sam didn't get to finish his sentence.

"You applied for Stanford," John said. It was a statement, not a question. The evidence was quite literally being gripped in John's hand.

Sam's nerves coiled in his gut, ready to explode. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. This argument was the very thing that Sam had wanted to avoid at all costs. He wasn't quite sure how he had planned to avoid it though. Telling John might have made it better rather than the older man figuring it out, or being told by someone else.

"I'm going," Sam blurted, standing up a little straighter. He wouldn't keep letting his father walk all over him. He would go to Stanford. After everything he had sacrificed for other people, he would do this for himself. Hunting could wait a few years.

"I just want to-" For the second time that night, John cut Sam off.

"Like hell you are! I won't let you abandon this family," John snapped as he stood. He slammed the letter down onto the table. He couldn't believe the way Sam was speaking. "Would you really do that? Would you really abandon your brother and I?"

"No. Dad listen, I am going to Stanford!" Sam shouted back at John. He wasn't abandoning Dean or his father. No, he was just trying to go to college.

"It's that damn whore," John sneered. It didn't matter that he was talking about his friends daughter, he was also talking about the girl who he thought had been a bad influence on Sam. "She's been putting all of these ideas into your head. She-"

It was Sam's turn to cut John off. Hearing his father talk about her that way made Sam's blood boil. He took a steadying breath. Just yelling at his father wouldn't do any good. He needed to be somewhat logical. Though, he struggled to think of anything decent to say after what he had heard his father call her.

Dean was watching everything go down. Now that he'd seen how this argument was going he might have a few regrets. He'd seen Sam and his father argue, a lot. It had never been this bad though. Hearing what his father had to say about her though, that made Dean regret everything. Being around her was the happiest Dean had ever seen his brother. He couldn't believe that his father would insult her like that. She wasn't a bad influence on Sam, not in the slightest.

"Don't call her that," Sam said through a clenched jaw. "She has done nothing wrong! It was my idea to apply for Stanford. I am not abandoning this family! I'm going to college!"

"Don't you fucking come back! If you aren't going to do the job, and be apart of this family, don't you ever come back," John snarled.

Sam's expression changed in an instant. He felt his chest tighten, panic spreading throughout his body. He knew by looking at johns face that his father wasn't kidding.

Sam grabbed his jacket, the letter from Stanford, and his laptop case before walking out the door. He had a lump in his throat as he walked down the row of motel room doors. Looking around the parking lot, he was thankful that it was empty.

"Sammy! Wait!" Dean yelled, running out of the motel room door after his younger brother. He was panicking at this point. Things weren't supposed to end like this. He couldn't believe that Sam would leave like this.

"Don't call me that," Sam snapped at his brother, not bothering to turn around. "Leave me the hell alone Dean."

The older Winchester brother stopped in his tracks. He had fucked up, everything had went wrong. It was too late now. Sam had clearly made up his mind. There was nothing Dean would be able to do to stop his brother.

Sam walked. And he just kept walking. His jacket protected him from the ice cold gushes of wind blowing. He walked towards the only place he had left to go; her house. She was his escape. He needed her, right now especially.

The disgusting words that John had spoke of her made Sam's blood boil. He walked faster. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jacket, hiding them away from the brisk cold.

She was the best part of his day. Hearing his father call her that, and the way the older man talked about her made him sick. She deserved so much better. She didn't do anything wrong. No, the opposite. She made everything better.

The thought of her smile was only able to hinder the tears building up for so long. Sam only walked faster. His long, gangly legs could only carry him so fast though.

The walk to her house didn't take long. Sam practically ran. His eyes had long ago welled up with tears, he sniffled as he finally spotted her house. He walked up to the front porch and hesitated. It was late. What if her parents answered instead of her?

He didn't knock on the door. Instead, he sent her a quick text asking if she could open the front door for him. He prayed to anything out there that might listen to him that she was still awake. He wouldn't risk her parents coming to the door, even if he knew that they wouldn't be upset.

His tear stained cheeks glimmered in the moonlight. He wiped at his cheeks with the sleeve of his jacket, trying to hide some of the tears from view. However, he knew that the second she opened the door that she would know. It would be impossible for her not too.

She could take one look at Sam and read him like a god-damn book. It was nice to be understood like that. Dean and his father had never actually listened to him about anything. He felt like an outsider. He don't feel anywhere near like that around her.

His train of thought was interrupted as he heard the click of a deadbolt sliding open. The front door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, there she was. Her pajama pants hung low on her hips, exposing a small section of her waist before her tank top covered the rest of her skin up. She looked tired as hell, yet she still gave Sam a gentle smile.

She stepped aside wordlessly, letting Sam into the house. Her eye brows drew together in concern as she noticed his tear stained cheeks. As Sam stepped inside, she quickly (and quietly) shut the door. The dead bolt snapped into place.

As she turned around she noticed that Sam had already began walking to her bedroom. Her house was more like a home to Sam than any other place. He did spend a lot of time here. Not that her parents minded.

Her parents loved Sam. They had always welcomed him in with open arms. And, they ignored all of the times they caught Sam sleeping over. They just appreciated that their daughter was spending time with someone her age. Having such a an odd lifestyle made it difficult to maintain friendships.

Whenever she walked into her bedroom, Sam was already sitting on her bed. His head was titled downwards, his eyes seemed to be locked on her rug. She noticed that he had discarded his shoes and jacket already. His jacket hung on the back of her desk chair, and his shoes sat in the corner of her room.

She sat next to Sam and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. He shuddered beneath her touch. More tears burned at his eyes and he fought to keep the emotion out of his voice as he spoke

"H-he found out," Sam whispered in a fragile voice. With anyone else he would have cringed at how vulnerable he sounded. He sniffled again, trying to prevent the tears from pouring down his cheeks again.

Her heart dropped. She was suddenly wide awake. That was the worst possible thing that could happen. She still remembered how excited Sam had been to show her his acceptance letter. All of that excitement had been ruined by John.

"Oh my God. . . Sam-"

"I'm still going to S-Stanford," He looked up at her as a few tears finally escaped down his cheeks. "My dad. . . my dad told me not to come back."

She didn't hesitate before pulling him into a tight hug. It was awkward since they were both sitting down but she didn't care in the slightest. Sam broke down in her arms. Hot tears poured down his cheeks.

"It's going to be okay, you're going to be okay." Her voice was gentle, the polar opposite to how his father had spoken to him earlier.

It was moments like this that made Sam realize how lucky he was to have her. He wouldn't know what to do without her. Especially tonight. His heart has been brutally ripped apart by his father, now she would work on helping him pick up the pieces.

They were always there for each other. It was something that could be so very simple that most people didn't notice it. The way that Sam would subconsciously reach for her anytime things went South, the way she always seemed to find her way into Sam's arm after a case or fight with her parents, the way she always made sure Sam had somewhere to go.

And yet, the two had stuck with the title of best friends. Neither one of them wanted to change it much, not yet anyway. There might have been occasional thoughts that definitely weren't the kind you thought about friends though.

Her warm touch brought Sam back to the present moment. It reminded him that things didn't have to be so bad. He might have lost his father, and maybe even Dean too, but he still had her.

"You can stay here until you leave for Stanford."

Sam' head jerked up. That was months away. He had planned to- he actually didn't know what he had planned to do. He would have figured something out though. No matter how hard it was.

Sam cleared his throat, "No, I can't ask your parents to do that."

"Too bad," She retorted. "You live with us until you leave for Stanford." Her voice was firm and left no room for argument.

Her parents would understand. They always did. Even if her father and John were friends, she knew that her mother would be able to persuade her father into letting Sam stay with them. Her mother was good at doing that. Nobody could say no to that woman.

"Thank you," Sam whispered. He then rubbed his eyes, wiping away the tear streaks. It would never make sense to Sam. He couldn't believe that she cared about him this much. He was a black sheep with his family. He was the one who caused problems and didn't belong. He didn't feel that way here. He felt just as much apart of the family as she actually was.

The two fell into a comfortable silence. She kept her arms wrapped around Sam. He felt like her arms were the only thing holding him together. His own father had just kicked him out! Sam couldn't believe that Dean had shown the letter. It hurt.

None of that mattered right now. He couldn't go back in time to fix things. He had to live with everything that had just happened. He had to figure it out.

Maybe things wouldn't be so bad. He could get through anything with her by his side.

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N: The biggest thanks to @tranquilitybasegrunge and @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles for beta reading parts of this for me!

Tag List: @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @aidansloth @jaredpadonlyyyy @zeppette @moonl1ghtsworld @tranquilitybasegrunge

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[blacknedsoul-blog]

Montresor is the Bad Ending of White Raven

So Montresor has a religious trauma. And from what little we know of the flashback to his death, the man was apparently a corrupt preacher.

What that tells me about his life made me crack my knuckles, because holy shit, this guy is an even better villain than I expected. And not for the reasons I thought at first.

Montresor's possible backstory

A fun fact: "unholy men" used to be called "sons of Belial". Same as Monty's Spectre type, so there's the initial connection, but with what we saw in chapter 87, this phrase from his mother resonates quite a bit:

Montresor was most likely a bastard (literally), and if he was raised in a religious community, that immediately made him and his mother outcasts. Possibly his mother hated him for "ruining her life". Whether this is true or not, the implication is that he grew up a victim of a system that decided he was sucked by the devil from birth.

In this light, Montresor's attitude towards the world is actually a logical consequence: he has decided that abuse is the only way to relate, and you can either be the victim or the victimizer. Of course, he is now the victimizer.

But he decided that because life taught him two lessons that were important enough to make him the person he is now.

"I know this game better than anybody"

We know from the clothes and hat in his flashback, and the cross around his neck, that Montresor was a preacher. And I would venture to say an excellent one: he has heard all his life that he is a demon, he knows better than anyone what terror hell produces in people, so he knows exactly what to say (or not say) to manipulate others through that fear.

Montresor, like Annabel, is someone who exploits his own traumas.

Annabel has been almost conditioned to behave like the perfect high-society lady, and that includes going to impressive extremes if it means getting something in return. She has engineered her way through life by identifying the currency of the people around her and knowing exactly what to give them so that they will, in her words "kissing her rings".

Loyalty gained through fear vs. loyalty gained through pretended sympathy.

Same goal.

If the world has made them that way, both Annabel and Montresor will use every last footnote of knowledge gained through trauma to get what they want.

But then there's something else they have in common: this deep knowledge of the rules of the game has also made them both know that the odds are too stacked against them to ever win. In the past, we've seen Annabel throw in the towel on her arranged marriage, but Montresor took a different path, much more along the lines of…

"So I'm not afraid to cheat."

Montresor decided that if people wanted a demon. He would give them one. The worst demon of all, because this one knows the rules: he knows how to play the game, he knows how to cheat and get away with it. We don't know the extent of his atrocities, but given what happened in the flashback and the fact that his idea of a sleepover is stuffing someone behind a wall to slowly suffocate, this guy must have a long rap sheet.

So long, in fact, that he was tied to the tracks of a train to be torn to shreds without even a trial.

Because if the rules are just there to screw you, then screw them: the only option left is to cheat.

Which is exactly what Lenore did when she burned down her house and pretended to be a man to go after Annabel. Lenore jeopardized everything Annabel said was important to her.

And she got away with it. At least until they were both killed (or, if those of us with our chips on Annabel's childhood friend, they may have both died without anyone knowing).

Now, in Nevermore, Lenore is still doing that, as we can see in her reluctance to kill or destroy Montresor: she refuses to play the game, refuses to follow the rules.

She will look for ways to cheat here, as she did before (something Annabel actually expects her to do). The woman is too stubborn to bend, and so far she seems to have the wind at her back (the question is, for how long?).

The bad ending

These elements make Montresor a complete exhibition of the ultimate consequences of taking Annabel and Lenore's attitudes to the extreme: a person who instrumentalizes her own traumas to unravel and try to inflict them on others, and who is not afraid to cheat for her own benefit if it means getting what she wants.

The only thing that separates Annabel and Lenore from Montresor is that they both still use these attitudes in the name of other people: Annabel for Lenore herself, and Lenore for the people she cares about. That both of them (still) seem to have their hearts in the right place.

But if Annabel continues to use her vast knowledge of this twisted game to work her way through people without caring, and Lenore still believes she's above all rules, here's Montresor to show them (and us) what's waiting for them at the end of the road.

[n1ght0wl-0]

Five x gn!reader

Relationships: Five x gn!reader 

Notes: Comfort, fluff 

Warnings: / 

Summary: You see how stressed Five is, and you start to worry. Apparently, Five feels stressed too and demands the comfort he needs.

Five is stressed. You know he is; it's no secret. Actually, you're not sure you've ever seen him not stressed. It's something you hate seeing. You always hate seeing him exhausted, stressed, or at the end of his rope.

Because Five tries. He never gives up. He tries, fights, and searches. He searched for a way home for over 40 years, after all.

It saddens you that his siblings do not see it.

"Y/n."

Looking up, you see Five standing in the doorframe. You're sitting on his bed. Your hands are grabbing the covers, and you try not to stare at the thousands of equations scribbled on the walls.

"What's up?" you ask, watching your boyfriend enter, noticing his disheveled hair and tired eyes. He walks up to you and grabs your wrist, pulling you to your feet.

You follow his tugging, staring in confusion. Then you're being pulled into his arms. A nose drops into your hair, and his hands cling to your clothes.

"I just want to hold you," Five mumbles. It feels safe against his chest, and you can't help but lean into him.

"Are you okay?" you ask gently, wrapping your arms around him. He seems to melt into your embrace.

"Yeah. Yeah, of course."

His voice is a grumble, as always. However, his eyes are closed, and his face is relaxed. You sigh at his obvious lie, but you leave it for now. Instead, you tighten your arms around his shoulders.

He almost feels fragile in this moment, you think, as if he could break under your touch. You know it's stupid. He's strong, and he's most certainly not fragile. He survived the worst, fights for his family even now.

Just... maybe he should get a break sometimes, too. And a hug.

You pull away carefully, reaching out to brush his hair out of his eyes. Your hand moves to cup his cheek.

"You can always get a hug from me, you know that, right?" you say quietly, your thumb brushing over his cheek.

Five huffs, letting you caress him.

"You're being sappy."

After a moment of staring into your eyes, he leans forward and kisses your forehead. His lips linger, just staying on your skin for a moment. It feels warm. A smile spreads on your lips as he cups your face.

"I love you," he mutters, pulling away carefully. "Now, let's go back to saving the world."

You snort, brushing over his cheek. Looking into his tired eyes, you hesitate and then push him towards the bed.

"I love you, too. But maybe we should reschedule saving the world for a good, long nap," you suggest, pushing him to lie down.

He's frowning, his eyes narrowing. You know that look. He's not pleased. He doesn't want to rest, not when he has so much work to do.

"Five, darling, the more tired you are, the more mistakes you make," you try reasoning, knowing a logical argument like that will make him pause.

With a clenched jaw, he slowly lies down.

"Only for a minute," he grumbles, not at all happy. You chuckle and press a sweet kiss to his lips.

"Go to bed. When you wake up, a coffee will be waiting for you."

[bxtchycaprisun]

let it be me | a. anderson ONE-SHOT

summary: you’d been avoiding your best friend for weeks, and she was determined to figure out what was wrong. she never would have guessed your absence was due to your repressed romantic feelings, which she also happened to share.

notes: fem!reader, bsf!abby, softdom!abby, porn w/ a plot, mutual pining, friends to lovers, angst but in a fluffy way, SMUT, fingering (both receiving), pussy eating (r!receiving), thigh riding, dirty talk, lots of pet names, i think that’s it? 

a/n: i know this isn’t obstinate, but it’s wlw season and i’m WOMANLESS, so i needed to write some smut.

MDNI!!! sexual content. comment if you want to be added to my tag list

(named after the ray lamontagne song)

you and abby never fought.

attached at the hip from the start of elementary school, the two of you were never seen without each other. and as new friend groups came and left, you and abby always stayed inseparable.

you were so close that she’d even followed you out of state to your dream university after you’d graduated high school.

despite the feelings that emerged in your early teen years when abby had grown taller, and the impact of her various high school sports was clear on her toned arms, you never dared to express your changing perspective of her.

other than some consistent cuddling most friends would consider crossing a boundary, the lines of your friendship never thought to cross between platonic and romantic. you figured that if she were to ever return your feelings, she would have by now.

and even though you two were only friends, in a way, she was yours, and you were hers.

or at least, that’s how you saw it.

that was until you saw her out with angela, her chem partner who you’d heard her complain about dozens of times, a girl you thought she hated. and they were drinking coffee and eating pastries at the east campus cafe, you and abby’s cafe.

and though you knew your perception of your relationship was nothing but a fantasy, it almost felt like a betrayal to see her like that with someone else. but of course, you couldn’t actually be mad at her for it, nor would you explain what was making you so upset.

so you did the one thing you thought was logical, you avoided her.

knowing that she would see right through you from the beginning, and demand that you tell her what was wrong, you tried to be strategic about it.

but you couldn’t a thing past your best friend, the girl who knew you like the back to your hand.

and you had no idea what you were in for if you continued your fit.

…

it had been two weeks since you sent abby the text, and now, as she laid belly down on her crammed dorm bed, she was rereading it.

y/n: oh my god abs, i’ve got the worst week coming up everrr. hannah scheduled me like double the hours i’ve asked for and i’ve got two exams! fmlllll

abby: damn, i’m sorry bun. still room for me in that schedule of yours?

y/n: you know it abby. text you later, off to work

the conversation didn’t worry abby much initially. but looking back on it, she saw it in a different light.

you didn’t make time for her. and she was determined to know why.

abby sat up in her bed, furrowing her brows as she remembered the date. it was a wednesday.

she opened back up her texts, quickly typing out her message.

abby: what time you coming over tonight? it’s october, so we can officially make our movie nights halloween dedicated :)

she pursed her lips worriedly as she awaited your response. she had been shot down daily over the last couple of weeks, always given the same excuse. work, exams, stomach flu, etc.

abby knew something was up, she just needed one final confirmation.

y/n: shit, i totally forgot! i promised i’d take my coworkers closing shift since she opened for me. next wednesday i promise!

abby felt her heart sink, the situation becoming all too real and unavoidable. you were angry at her, and she didn’t have a clue why.

she scrambled out a message, quickly pressing send and biting the inside of her cheek as she watched the unchanging screen.

abby: are you mad at me? please tell me what i did, and i’ll fix it

she watches with a tight chest as the bubble of your response appears and disappears. and as ten minutes pass with no text back, she throws her phone down on the bed, groaning into her hands.

if it had been anyone else, she’d assume you were just busy at work. but this was you.

abby sprung up from the bed, throwing on a jacket and slipping her feet swiftly into her beat up sneakers. the sneakers you’d bought her for her 16th birthday.

she swung open the door, grabbing her things and moving swiftly down the stairs and out her dorm hall. she tucked her hands under her arms, pulling her hoodie over her head as she walked through the breezy fall air.

she rounded the familiar block and pushed into the entrance of your dorms.

and before she could think twice, she brought her fist up to your door, banging loudly with her other hand stuffed in her pocket.

“open the door!” she says sternly, already hearing your movement in the dorm.

you pull the door open with a displeased grunt, but as you recognize the rosy cheeked girl in front of you, your eyes widen.

“a-abby?” you stutter, staring up at her with a guilty expression.

she stares at you, taking in your loose sweats and braless tank. you weren’t at work, and you certainly weren’t getting ready.

after a long pause, the reality of the situation setting in, abby speaks up.

“you lied.” she murmurs, her voice low.

you cast your gaze down, stepping back to let her in silently. you knew you weren’t gonna get out of this one.

she shoves her way into your room, shutting the door loudly and pulling her hood off to look down at you disapprovingly.

“so,” she huffs, throwing her arms up and crossing them against her chest. “are you gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”

you sigh, pinching your temples. “nothings… nothings going on i just-” you begin before being cut off abruptly.

“nothings going on?” she repeats desperately, “y/n, you’ve avoided me for weeks!”

“i- i haven’t avoided you,” you reply breathlessly, stepping forward. “i’ve been really busy.”

“oh right, busy,” she scoffs, “just like how you’re so busy right now?”

you bow your head silently, avoiding her burning gaze. “i- i can explain..” you say slowly, although you sure as hell didn’t want to.

“great!” she snaps, “good, let’s hear it.” she shifts her weight back and forth on her legs, her figure now trembling with anger and desperation.

you look up at her with pleading eyes, trying to find away to avoid this conversation if you had any hope of keeping your friendship the same.

you were so disappointed with yourself you felt like you could cry. for years you’d stuffed your feelings down, terrified not just of rejection but of your own selfishness.

abby was the perfect friend, she was everything you could ask for and more, and yet your inconsiderate mind desired more. and when she didn’t give that to you, you pushed her away.

abby watched your expressions alter, staring at you with her mouth agape. “well?” she asks in a final, breathless plea.

when she doesn’t get a response, her mind jumps to the only conclusion she could think of.

“you’re… you’re seeing someone?” she whispers, her face falling.

your expression twists in confusion and frustration at her accusation, shaking your head fervently. “what? what are you talking about?”

“you are, aren’t you?” she presses on, taking a step forward.

you roll your eyes at the irony of her words. “no okay, i’m not seeing anyone,” you huff, the attitude clear in your voice. “you’re the one that’s seeing someone,” you murmur, back turned to your best friend. your eyes widen at your own words, cursing yourself for letting that slip.

you hear abby’s breath falter behind you. “what?” she asks, voice somewhat amused which annoyed the hell out of you. “did you say i’m seeing someone?”

despite knowing how childish you were being, you narrow your eyes, continuing on with your antics.

“well you are, aren’t you?” you say with a pout, tilting you chin up at her.

at this, abby laughs at you. “y/n… are you talking about angela?” she says with a smirk. “i’ve been trying to tell you about that, so much happened!” she exclaims and you nearly feel like breaking down then and there.

your expression drops, lips curling into a proper frown as you turn away from her once again. she stutters as she sees your change in demeanor.

“yeah right, i’d just love to hear all about angela,” you mutter, unable to meet her piercing blue eyes.

“no no.. it was bad, okay, it was really bad,” she chuckles, rushing over to grab your arms and turn you to face her. but as she takes in your distressed expression, abby’s mouth hangs open, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place in her mind.

“hey, hey, what is it?” she cooes, her voice softened as she brings her hand to cup the side of your face, stroking your cheek.

when you don’t respond once again, her back straightens, and she drops her hands from your skin, staring down at you in contemplation.

“you’re… you’re jealous,” she says quietly, her words laced with certainty.

you shake your head, stepping back from her with worry as she figured it out. “no, why the hell would i be jealous?” you heave, but abby doesn’t let you get away.

“because you like me,” she asserts once again, hands going for your wrists as she reaches out to you.

“hey, look at me, hey..” she brings her face close to yours, lowering to your height. your arms go limp in defeat as she holds you still, grabbing your chin gently to make you look at her.

as she studies your face, the way your eyes crease with uncertainty, she knows.

“you do..” she whispers.

the only thing you can do is drop your head in shame, praying silently that she would agree to just forget this conversation completely and return to your blissful friendship.

your murmur is nearly inaudible as a small “i’m sorry,” passes through your lips.

abby inhales sharply, taking your cheeks into your hands and lifting your head to face hers in a quick motion.

“oh sweet girl… don’t be sorry..” she breathes, brushing her thumb over your bottom lip.

she stares at you for a moment, chest heaving with her uneven breathes, contemplating the same action she’d been dreaming of for years. the action she never thought she’d get the opportunity of doing.

and just as your eyes meet hers, they flutter shut to the feeling of her lips pressing against yours.

you sigh against her, the tension easing from your muscles as she guides you gently against the door, running her hands desperately, yet hesitantly over your arms and shoulders.

the touch, the way her lips gently parted yours, her tongue rolling into your mouth with a soft hum, it was foreign, yet so painfully familiar.

this was abby. your abby. the girl who had been attached to your hip for a decade. the girl you had convinced yourself never to kiss and never confess to out of fear of ruining your perfect friendship.

and you couldn’t be happier as she did it for you.

you bring your arms around her broad shoulders, pulling her against you as your noses clashed together in a desperate kiss, her hands getting rougher and more curious, and so do yours. you tug her hoodie up over her head, touching her chilled skin from the cool fall air outside.

you feel her calloused palm reach below your shirt, grazing the soft skin on your belly, inching upward to your unclothed breast. you feel her hand suddenly stop, her mouth pulling away from yours.

“abby-” you call out her name in a slight moan, digging your fingers into her hair and tugging on her braid. you knew what she was thinking. you knew she thought she was rushing things, but you didn’t care. you’d waited so long.

“i know.. i know..” she nods, eyes nearly shut as she peers down at you, leaning in again to kiss you, slowing her rhythm and taking her time with you.

you whine into her mouth, brows furrowing as you grabbed her hand, trying to pull it towards your chest once again, and she chuckles against your lips.

“so needy,” she smiles, but with how shaky her voice is, she sounds almost hypocritical.

“neglected you for so long, huh?” she grins, kissing the corner of your mouth gently.

even though abby hadn’t had many relationships or sexual partners, mostly thanks to her hopeless pining towards you, she was undeniably more experienced than you.

you could feel the hesitance in her fingertips, the uncertainty in her eyes. knowing she didn’t want to rush you, you grab her cheek, pulling her lips away to speak.

“then don’t make me wait any longer,” you whisper, eyes looking up at her pleadingly as your thighs squeezed together, desperately trying to relieve the ache between your legs.

abby smiles, not missing a beat to crash her lips to yours once again, and this time her hand travels up your chest without hesitation. you whine as you feel her thumb brush over your nipple, and arch your back against the wall.

she dips her head down to your neck, peppering kisses along your throat, and sucking soft marks onto your skin. she groans as she hears your quiet moans, feeling like she could cum on the spot. she’d envisioned how you would sound so many times, but to actually hear it was so much better.

“you’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” she hums, large palms needing your tits as she pushes your legs apart with her knee, and slots her thigh in between them. “sound so fucking pretty”

your face is red and hot as you let out a quiet whimper in response, grabbing on to her toned stomach to pull her closer. as you feel the friction of her muscular thigh against your clothed cunt, you absentmindedly grind yourself against her.

“there you go, sweetheart,” abby praises you, hands leaving your tits to hold onto your hips. she gently guides you against her propped leg, and leaves small love bites below your ear as she whispers to you. “tell me if we’re going too fast, okay? you tell me.”

you shake your head, hips picking up their rhythm as you try to chase that sensation that slowly builds in your cunt. “not too fast, abs. i want more, please?”

normally, you would care about sounding too desperate, but since this was abby, you couldn’t hold back. even in this unfamiliar situation, you were comfortable with her. and even more importantly, you needed her so bad.

“you want more, huh baby?” she cooes, smiling ear to ear as she helps you keep up your pace. suddenly, her hands push your hips back off of her, and you whine in disappointment. before you can protest the loss of contact, she brings her hands to the hem of your tank top, pulling it off your chest in a swift motion.

her palms return to your waist, guiding you quickly against your small bed, her lips instantly connected with yours once again. she pushes you gently down, situating herself between your legs, and hooking a finger at the hem of your sweatpants.

the fabric is tugged down to your ankles in seconds, and she tosses the pants across the room with a shit eating grin. you can’t help but look up and giggle at her as she crawls on the bed to meet you, kissing up your stomach and on the fat of your chest.

“whatcha laughing about, pretty girl?” abby smirks as she sucks hickeys onto your skin. she tried her best to sound stern, but she couldn’t help but melt as she heard your laugh.

“nothing, this is just weird,” you can’t help but admit with blushed cheeks. “i just… never imagined we would be doing this..”

“oh?” abby says with faux surprise, “so you’re telling me… you didn’t imagine me doing this?” she asks mischievously as she takes on of your nipples into her mouth, sucking gently.

you’re breathing falters and you let out a small gasp, handing falling the the back of her head as she runs her tongue over your hardening nipple. “n-no i mean… i imagined it… just didn’t think we actually ever would.”

abby smiles against your skin, kissing her way down your stomach and settling between your thighs. “what would you imagine, bun?” she asks teasingly as she kisses just above your underwear. “would you picture me doing this to you? dream about my mouth on your cunt?”

with that statement, abby drops in between your legs, pressing her face against your panties and inhaling dirtily. she shakes her nose against your clothed pussy, nudging your clit deliciously. you cry out into your hand, instantly squirming from her touch.

you felt her start to kitten lick your clint through the fabric, causing you to let out an deep whine. you lift your head with hazy eyes, listening to her soft growls against you, which only made your stomach whir.

“abby pl-ease,” you say brokenly, desperately bucking your hips upward to chase the friction you needed, “stop teasing me…”

“m’not teasing…” she mumbles, her voice low as she runs her tongue flat against your underwear, applying pressure to your folds.

“a-ah, please!” you moan, feeling your cunt gush with more arousal.

“you are teasing me, you are-” you begin your protest when she suddenly yanks your panties down from your hips, and before you can process it, her hot mouth is licking a stripe from your hole to your clit.

you release a borderline pornographic moan at the sensation, eyes rolling to the back of your head. she doesn’t waist any time to start sucking at your clit with vigor, and alternating to lap up your juices.

you’re nearly shaking at this point, your chest heaving with every breath and hips twitching from every touch she gives you.

“fuck- i love the way you taste bun…” abby moans into your pussy, her hands keeping a bruising grip on your waist. “knew you’d taste good.. so fucking good…”

she already sounds pussy drunk as she flattens her tongue against your clit, helping you grind your hips against her mouth however you wanted. you continuously tried to close your legs around her head, completely overwhelmed by how good she was fucking you, but each time her palm would catch your leg, only pulling you further apart.

“gotta stop squirming, baby,” abby would growl as your thighs continued to tremble and your arms would thrash around aimlessly. you respond with an apologetic whine, already too cloudy minded to form words.

when you continue to move in her grip, she finally pushes your knees against your chest, keeping you firmly pinned with your cunt fully exposed for her.

“look at that…” abby cooes as she gives your pussy a small slap before dipping her mouth back down to your hole, lapping you up quickly.

“how many fingers you want, sweet girl?” she breaks away from your cunt to ask you breathlessly, before returning to suck at your clit.

you whimper from the added pressure of the position, head falling weakly against the pillow as you tried to clear your thoughts.

“ngh.. don’t know… o-one..?” you manage to muster, but you can’t already feel yourself tipping over the edge. anything abby gave you, you would take.

“hmm…” abby smiles against your pussy, keeping your legs pushed up with one hand while bringing the other down to slide through your folds.

you groan as you feel the tips of her fingers prodding at your hole, unconsciously pushing yourself against them. “we can do two…” she whisper as she slowly inserts her middle and ring finger into your pussy, hissing through her teeth as she feels you clench around her.

“relax baby… it’s only me,” she comforts you as she curls her fingers experimentally inside of you. you let out a soft cry, back arching against your mattress as she explores your insides.

abby watches your expression carefully, her tongue giving your clit small, stimulating licks as she searched for the spot that made you scream.

when she felt the spongy area deep in your core, and watched as you jolted against her fingers, panting out a moan, she knew she found it. she gave you one last lick, collecting the juices that leaked around her fingers on her tongue, she crawled up to your face with her fingers still deep inside of you.

her strokes were slow and gentle at first, teasing that spot with an almost unbearable pace. her eyes met yours and she positioned herself above you, but her pupils were darkened.

“i want to go harder,” she whispers, her voice low and full of lust. “can i do that, bun, can i go harder?”

you nod and quickly, grabbing onto her neck and pulling her lips against yours, moaning at the taste of yourself on her tongue. “please… so close..”

she didn’t need to hear another word before her pace turned from gentle to hammering. the air is punched out of you as she drills her fingers into your pussy, curling upward and hitting that spot with every thrust.

you were crying and moaning out her name, grabbing onto anything you could as she continued her rough assault on your hole. obscene squelches from your pussy fill the room, and your face blooms from embarrassment.

abby kisses you sweetly, in sharp contrast to the brutal pace of her fingers. you wrap your arms around her, hoping for a bit of her comfort to ground you in this moment. she immediately recognizes your need, bringing her forehead against yours as she fingered you.

“that feel good baby? yeah?” she whispers, her voice sultry as her palm rubs perfectly against your clit.

“m’gonna cum.. abby.. oh my god,” you cry out, fingernails digging into her back without even realizing. she clenched her teeth, the stinging pain only enhancing her desperation.

“that’s it sweet girl..” she mumbles, her pace unbreaking. “cum on my fucking fingers- let it out.”

without missing a beat, you feel your hearing practically go out, white hot pleasure coursing through your body as your orgasm crashes down on you. you shake, mouth open in a silent moan as you ride out your high, abby’s fingers never ceasing. your final sound comes out in a shattered moan, your eyes rolled back as you grind your hips into her fingers, feeling the best high of your life.

“good girl…” abby praises, her fingers slowing down even so slightly as she watches your expression.

“good. fucking. girl.” she finishes, her pace coming to a stop as she feels you tense up from the overstimulation.

you fall against the mattress, your face completely red from your post-orgasm, and your chest heaving with every breath. abby takes her fingers out of you, shoving them into her mouth and licking them clean.

you watch her in amazement as she lowers down to your face, pressing her lips against yours gingerly. you smile against her, pulling her closer by your shoulders until she practically falling on top of you.

“y/n,” abby giggles, trying to remain propped up from her elbows. “i’m gonna crush you!”

“don’t care,” you shake your head with a wide grin.

she smiles, kissing you again, but this time with a little bit more desperation. her tongue slips past your lips, massaging the inside of your mouth.

you tug on the waist band of her sweats, looking up at her with a pout. “take ‘em off,” you whine.

abby smirks at your plea, shaking her head. “so bossy,” she mumbles, pulling down her pants and tossing them aside. you instantly spring up on your knees, smashing your lips against hers.

abby flinches a bit, startled by how quickly your fingers find their way to the waistband of her boxers. you yank them down her muscular thighs, diving your much smaller fingers between her folds as you kiss her sweetly.

“woah- baby,” abby breathes, her voice almost failing her as she grabs onto your wrist. “what’re you doing?”

“returning the favor, silly,” you grumble against her lips, smiling as you feel just how wet she is. “i think i got you a little excited,” you giggle.

“no.” abby shakes her head firmly, “you’re not the one that gets to tease me.” she tries to sound stern, but the shake in her voice didn’t go unnoticed.

it wasn’t often that abby was on the receiving side. but staring down at you, with your eyes blown wide staring at her dripping cunt, she couldn’t help but grow just as desperate. she needed this too.

you palm her aching pussy, watching in awe as she bucked her hips against you, bringing her hands up to clutch the headboard. you hold your breath to surpress your own moans at the sight, wanting to only hear her soft sighs and the dirty sounds of her wetness.

“fuck… yeah like that,” abby groans, head falling back, and her knees trembling as she stays upright for you, not even realizing how she’s furthering spreading her thighs, and grinding into your palm.

she felt herself getting red the moment she realized she was already about to cum. but the pleasure was too consuming, and she was too pent up to feel any embarrassment.

the second you slipped your middle finger into her folds, your thumb instantly finding her clit, she toppled over the edge. she released a strained moan, instantly falling against you. she props herself up on the headboard to keep up her weight, and lets her head fall into your neck. she brings one hand down to cover yours, keeping your palm in place as she practically humps your fingers. she rides out her orgasm in shuddering breathes.

you watch her in shock and awe, remaining silent as she started to come down. she pulls your hand away, burying her face further into your neck with a deep sigh.

“did you just..” you begin, and she could practically hear your smile.

“yes..” she groans, rolling her face towards yours and pressing her lips at the base of your throat.

your grin widens as you stare up at the ceiling, stroking her back carefully. abby lifts her head, and secures her arms around your waist.

in a quick movement, you are rolled on top of her, your legs intertwined. she holds you tight to her chest, kissing the top of your head affectionately. you blush as you feel the stickiness between both your legs.

“we’re a mess,” you say softly, smiling up at her.

“leave it for now,” she whispers, fingers tracing shapes on your bare back. “wanna stay like this for a minute.”

you lay there in silence, listening to each others slowing breaths. and in that moment, you knew this was what it was supposed to be all along.

abby’s words come out in a content hum, her fingers affectionately pinching at the soft fat below your ass.

“sorry for making you wait so long, sweet girl.”

“you’re forgiven.”

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Valentine's Day, Shana!

Can we get more from F is for Frankenstein? Or more 3 faced Goddess? (More of the Iron Man stuff basically. I don't even really go there anymore, but your writing is so great)

a continuations of 1 2 3 4

The thing is, Rhodey would actually prefer it if Tony didn’t come for them, if he didn’t risk his life by walking into what is so obviously a trap meant to kill him, even if it meant both he and Steve died instead.

Morgan is a child still, far from ready to take the throne, and Pepper would manage but at the end of the day this country needs its king – need Tony, not only doing the work that he is to win this war, but as a son of Stark, as a member of the family that’s ruled for over a millennia. Even to those that believe the worst rumors about Tony, his presence on the throne is still a comfort, still a sign that the Goddess hasn’t forsaken them. Morgan won’t be viewed the same. She’s too young.

At the end of the day, he and Steve are just soldiers. They’re far more replaceable.

Beyond that, these are the people that made Tony swallow a star. They don’t know he’s the Iron Mage, but they probably assume that the Iron Mage is going to be nearby anyway, and are preparing for it. Which means Tony will have the element of surprise going for him

But when he was nineteen, Tony kissed him under a peach tree, tasting of the fruit they’d shared, and neither of them have looked back since.  

When the situations had been reversed, Rhodey hadn’t given up, hadn’t stopped looking, and if they’d offered him an invitation like they’re offering Tony, he would have taken it regardless of the danger. And he’d like to say he did all that for his king, but he wouldn’t have gone to nearly as much effort for Greg, for Howard.

He did it because it was Tony.

And not an ounce of logic or sense is going to keep Tony from doing the same.

Not that there’ll be any. Pepper probably didn’t even hesitate, he thinks fondly. They’ve been friends and partners too long. He’d tell Tony to go after Pepper too, even while wishing he wouldn’t come after him now.

“Why are you smiling?” Steve asks warily.

Rhodey rolls his head to the side. Steve is eight years younger than him, six years younger than Tony, and most of the time Rhodey doesn’t notice the difference. He’s seen more war than Rhodey has, after all, and has some mannerisms that remind him of his grandfather. He ages slowly, thanks to the sorcerer’s enchantment, but enough people have spelled themselves with a false youth that it’s not jarring enough to be noteworthy.

Right now, he looks even younger than he is, tired and wary. Rhodey would have thought his resignation would make him look older, but instead if brings to mind every child that’s found themselves trapped on the battlefield.

“It’s going to be alright,” he says gently. “He’ll come.”

Steve grimaces and looks away. “Even if he does. They might just kill us anyway.”

They might, but their sorcerers are skilled enough to read the enchantments tangled on top of both of them. Tony would know if Rhodey was dead. They performed that spell long before Tony ever sat on the throne. Which means they’ll keep them alive at least long enough for Tony to see them, which is probably all the time he’ll need.

But that’s nothing he can say to Steve, nothing he’ll understand when he doesn’t know the king is Edward and the Iron Mage both, so he tilts to the side until their shoulders are pressed together and hopes Steve finds comfort in that.

[astro-vogue]

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I've recently came across a Instagram story from astrologer Haley Delgado, (@mymoongirlreadings on IG, go check her if you'd like to ♡) where she answered an ask about "Most Challenging Composite Placements" and she ranked her top 5 placements that I found very interesting and true and I felt like sharing and commenting them:

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

[ ⚠ ] Having these placements isn't inherently and always bad, don't get scared, I don't mean to make any astro-terrorism, I just think it's fair to pinpoint potentially problematic factors and make people aware.

ׂ·˚ ༘ NEPTUNE CONJUNCT SOUTH NODE

I perfectly get where she took this from. I don't like this aspect either. Neptune represents illusion, toxicity, toxic idealisation, disillusionment and sometimes even manipulation, lies, deceit, fake things...

Someone with Neptune conjunct SN will often struggle to see the partner's true colours and idealise them toxically all the time, the chance of developing problematic behaviours such as compulsive lying, cheating or even being manipulated with this aspect is high.

Many toxic relationships I've seen actually have some Neptune-South Node overlaps, especially tense ones such as Square and Opposition (conjunction included)

·˚ ༘ CHIRON SQUARE NEPTUNE

This one follows the same logic as Neptune Conj. SN.

If Neptune is lies, Chiron is pain, these two tensely interacting are quite difficult to handle. The results are likely to be lies in the relationship, cheating, manipulation, delusion which leads to pain, putting the partner on a pedestal and then drastically being hurt by the truth of who they really are, trusting the other person blindly and let him/her/them do the worst...

·˚ ༘ CHIRON SQUARE VENUS

The theme of blindly loving someone without a realistic perspective is high. I could talk about this aspect for hours hence it is very close to my heart.

This one is the "love hurts" aspect, and having it in synastry or composite isn't much of a joy to see (unless there are mitigating factors in the chart), these people may struggle finding a common love language and hurt each other (often not even on purpose), their way of expressing love is difficult because it's very different.

The Chiron person may accidentally hurt the Venus person and on the other side the Venus person may see the Chiron person as their toxic "healer", this is the "if they get mad means I did something wrong" aspect, the guilt and repression here is high because the couple doesn't communicate well

·˚ ༘ SATURN ONLY HARSHLY ASPECTED

I wholeheartedly agree with this. Haley did a great job putting this on her list because I think it's one of the worst too... Here's one of the few cases where I get quite pessimistic and say that not many placements are able to mitigate this one.

Saturn receiving only harsh aspects (it's pretty rare) represents a lack or difficulty in finding stability as a couple. These two people never seem to find common ground and agreement, long term connections with this placement are quite rare because there's this constant restriction and overly strict energy surrounding the couple.

·˚ ༘ JUPITER ONLY HARSHLY ASPECTED

This one follows the same principle as Saturn Harshly Aspected.

Jupiter is joy, fun, expansion, growth, and having it only harshly aspected can bring a lack of joy together, a difficulty in having similar hobbies or having fun together, these people may feel stuck together and feel like they go nowhere.

They may struggle making plans for the future together and live closed in their own ego and pride. They hardly ever laugh together or the complete opposite: they are never serious about anything.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

MASTERLIST

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